


Operation Three’s A Party

by eden22



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Multi, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 21:05:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3396311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eden22/pseuds/eden22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers <span class="small">4:23 am</span></p><p>How many times a week can a couple have a threesome with the same guy before it becomes some sort of 3-way relationship?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Operation Three’s A Party

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a tumblr post I can no longer find. Whoops.

**Steve Rogers 4:23 am**

**How many times a week can a couple have a threesome with the same guy before it becomes some sort of 3-way relationship?**

** slide to reply **

Sam blinked sleepily at the text message, before groaning and rolling over. It was way too early for this shit. Sure, he hadn’t been asleep anyways, but that didn’t make a four-in-the-fucking-morning text messages from goddamn _Captain America_ about whatever weird fuckery he had going on in his personal life any more welcome. He rubbed his hands over his eyes, sighing up at his ceiling. 

Honestly, this whole hanging out with superheros thing was vastly overrated. And involved a lot more personal drama than he would have ever guessed. Who knew superheros were such _divas_?

A soft chime interrupted his thoughts and he grabbed at his softly glowing phone, holding it up above him as he rolled over onto his back.

**Steve Rogers now**

**srsly need an answer**

** slide to reply **

Sam snorted. It hadn’t taken Rogers long to adapt to modern technology, embracing texting and various social media like the twenty-something he really was (no matter how many ‘grandpa’ cracks the rest of the Avengers made). Though Sam knew for a fact that Steve was still pretending to be utterly clueless to at least half the people he knew, because he was a little shit who hated that people assumed he wouldn’t be able to figure out modern technology. He quickly typed out ‘I swear to god Steve if u are sleeping with Tony Stark I want to know nothing about it’ and pressed send, laying his phone down on his chest and continuing to examine his ceiling. He had just reached the conclusion that sleep clearly wasn’t going to be happening for him anymore that night when he heard another soft chime, quickly followed by a second notification. 

**Steve Rogers now**

**gross.**

** slide to reply **

**Steve Rogers. now**

**and u still haven't answered my question.**

‘Idk dude’, Sam typed out in reply, ‘this isn’t exactly something I have personal experience in’. Pressing send, he only had a second to spend thinking if he had something else to add before his phone chimed again. He had a sinking suspicion as to the identity of the apparent addition to Steve and Natasha’s relationship, and he was fairly certain if it was who he thought it was, he didn’t want to get involved. 

**Steve Rogers now**

**I think if ur sleeping as 3 more than 2 then you’ve stopped being 2 and started being 3.**

** slide to reply **

**Steve Rogers now**

**but how do you tell the third?**

****

_Jesus,_ Sam thought to himself as he slid out of bed, if that was how it was, he _really_ wasn’t getting involved. 

\----------

Steve frowned down at his phone. It had been ten minutes and Sam still hadn’t texted him back. Natasha had swatted him, told him she had it under control, and then had disappeared into the bathroom, where he could hear the faint sound of the shower running coming from behind the half-open door. He tapped his phone against his palm thoughtfully as he sat up, swinging his long legs over the edge of the bed. While he wasn’t one to doubt or question Natasha’s capableness, he also knew that a situation like theirs (no matter what Tony might insinuate to the contrary) wasn’t exactly… common, even in this new, more sexually adventurous era he had found himself in. 

And he really, really, didn’t want to fuck it up. 

“Jesus Steve, _what_?” startled, Steve looked up to see Natasha standing in the doorway of the bathroom, the light haloing around her naked form as she rubbed the towel through her hair. Steve belatedly realized that he could no longer hear the shower running. He looked down at his phone briefly before meeting Natasha’s eyes, which were full of a concern that he knew was only there because she allowed it to be. The fact that she allowed him to see it would never stop being slightly amazing to him, especially after everything that had come out about her after the fall of SHIELD. 

“You’re thinking so hard I could feel it from the shower.”

“I just…” he started, before spreading his hands helplessly. Sighing, he slumped back onto the bed, speaking to the ceiling. “I don’t know what we’re doing, Tash.” Her face appeared in his vision, and he wrinkled his nose as her curly hair dripped down onto his face. Her frown matched his as she spoke. 

“What do you want us to be doing?” He shook his head slowly. 

“I don’t know anymore,” he confessed, his voice begging her to understand, “I thought I did when we started this, but now…” he sat up, forcing Natasha to move until she was curled up next to him, and he wrapped his arm around her as he leaned his head against the top of hers. 

“I’m scared,” he whispered into her hair, shutting his eyes and waiting. The spy shifted under him before stilling. 

“I am too,” she finally admitted, “what we…. what you could lose…”

“What _we_ could lose,” Steve corrected firmly, squeezing her a little bit tighter, before sighing, “I’m worried we’ve already lost it. That… what we’ve started, what we’ve done, has ruined everything before it even had a chance to begin.” 

“So what do we have left to lose?” She asked quietly, and at Steve’s soft snort, she shifted out from under his arm, turning to face him, eyes searching his face as she continued, “Seriously Steve, if what we’ve done already could have ruined everything, what do we have left to lose?”

“What are you talking about?” Steve asked carefully, and Natasha threw up her hands in response. 

“I’m talking about asking for what we both want,” she said, voice heavy with exasperation, before her voice turned slightly uncertain, “It is… what we both want, isn’t it? To be with him? And not just…”

“Not just for sex,” Steve finished, his words wiping the uncertainty off her face, “Yeah, I want that. God, I want that. But I just… I can’t lose him Nat. I just got him back, and I’m afraid…”

“That if we ask for more, he’ll disappear on us again?” It was Natasha’s turn to finish Steve’s thought, nodding as she reached over, twining their fingers together. “If I’ve learned anything Steve, it’s that you have to grab happiness when you can, and when you find someone that makes you happy, you should hold onto them as tightly as you can and never let them go.” Steve squeezed her hand as she smiled crookedly. 

“So,” he said, “we’re going to do this?” Natasha nodded. 

“We’re going to do this.” They sat in the dark in silence for several long moments, before Nat abruptly stood, stretching and clasping her hands together. 

“Well,” she said with a grin, “that was an intense conversation. I’m going to go see if I can convince Clint to do target practice with me.” Steve laughed, understanding her need to distance herself from the vulnerability of the moment. 

“By convince Clint to do target practice, do you mean hunt him down and start shooting at him without warning?” he teased with a grin, and Natasha put on an exaggerated ‘who, me?’ face before laughing and pulling on a tank top and shorts, disappearing from the room with a promise to text him later. Steve sat on the bed for a long moment, unable to decide what to do, his mind running over the conversation he and Nat had just had over and over again. How was this going to work? How were they going to bring this up with Bucky? What if he rejected them? What if they freaked him out? What if this was just asking for too much, after everything that he’d been through? 

Steve had just begun searching his room for paper and a pencil to start writing down possible strategies when his phone buzzed. 

**Sam now**

**Run?**

** slide to reply **

Smiling, Steve texted back a quick affirmative before jumping off the bed. A run would burn off some of the nervous energy now running through his system, and hopefully stop him from obsessing over everything that could go wrong. Well, for an hour or two anyways. 

\----------

**Nat <3 20m ago**

**Operation Three’s A Party has begun :):):)**

** slide to reply **

Steve snorted as he picked up his phone where it had been sitting atop his towel, and Sam mustered up what little energy he had left to roll his head to the side, finding his friend smiling down at his phone as he quickly typed out something. Remembering their conversation earlier, Sam really didn’t want to ask, but apparently he was incapable of _not_ asking, because–

“What?”

“Huh?” Steve turned towards his friend, who gestured vaguely in Steve’s direction before letting his hand fall limply next to the rest of him on the gym floor. “Oh, um, nothing.” Pocketing his phone, Steve gave Sam the most unconvincing smile Sam had ever seen. He squinted at his friend. For someone that he _knew_ had run successful undercover operations in WWII Europe, Steve was amazingly bad at lying to people he actually knew (and liked). 

“You texted me this morning asking about threesomes,” Sam reminded him, smiling smugly at the blush that shot across Steve’s face as he looked away, rocking on his feet and shoving his hands in his pockets like a schoolboy. 

“Yeah, that was… for a friend,” Steve finished lamely and Sam couldn’t help but laugh at him. 

“Sure, for a friend-” 

“What’s for a friend?” Sam tilted his head back to see an upside-down Tony Stark looking curiously between Sam and Steve. 

“Oh,” said Steve airily, “I was just asking Sam if he knew where you could buy dildos. I have a friend who’s looking for one.” Sam burst out laughing while Steve smiled serenely at Tony before throwing his bag over his shoulder at heading out of the large gym. Tony watched him go, a slightly confused, slightly amused look on his face. 

“I just cannot get a handle on that guy,” he commented to Sam, shaking his head before heading over to the block of treadmills across the room. Sam stayed where he was, contemplating whether it was worth it to move, or if he should just stay there until he died. 

\----------

Steve showed up at Natasha’s rooms that evening, dressed in a button-up shirt and his nicest trousers, as per Nat’s texted request. Knocking on the door, Steve paused a moment before pushing in, barely making it two steps into the apartment before freezing, blinking slowly at the transformed space. While Natasha’s apartment in the Tower was usually as sparse as Steve’s (though she did have a somewhat strange predilection for hanging weapons on the walls as decoration that Steve hadn’t yet worked up to asking her about), the room was now filled with flowers, tucked into the barrels of hanging rifles and wreathed around axes. The room was also softly lit not by the harsh overheads Nat typically favoured (leaving no shadows for enemies to hide in) but by candles which were set on nearly every surface (and, Steve was sure, were posing a serious fire hazard when combined with the flowers). 

“Um, Nat?” he called out hesitantly, not seeing the redhead anywhere in sight. Clutching the wine bottle in his hand tighter, he ventured further towards the kitchen. 

“Steve!” Steve had only his very, very good instincts to thank for the fact that he didn’t jump when Natasha suddenly popped out from behind the kitchen island. She spread her arms, grinning widely. “What do you think?” Steve looked around the room again. 

“Um… it’s nice?” Natasha grinned wider at the obvious hesitence in his voice. 

“Welcome to stage one of Operation Three’s A Party,” she said proudly, hands on hips. Steve realized he could smell something delicious cooking, and the sounds of someone singing softly in Russian. 

“Is this a date?” Steve asked curiously, reassessing the room. 

“Yup!” Natasha confirmed cheerily. 

“That’s your plan?” 

“Mhmmm.” Nat hummed a confirmation as she turned to check on whatever was in the oven (and making the apartment smell amazing). Steve set the wine down on the counter as he took a seat at the island. 

“Do you need help with the cooking?” Steve asked, leaning forward to try and see what she was cooking. Natasha snorted, standing back up and turning to Steve with a raised eyebrow. 

“Keep your grandpa America, boil-everything hands off of my cooking.” Steve felt a flush run up his cheek at the reminder of the Bland Dinner from Hell (as Barton _insisted_ on calling it, no matter how many glares Steve gave him). His witty rejoinder (it was going to be witty, shut up) was interrupted by-

“What the fuck?” Steve and Nat turned to see Bucky standing with both eyebrows raised, wearing a pair of loose blue sweats that Steve was pretty sure were actually his, and a purple hawkeye shirt that he definitely knew was Clint’s. Steve looked back at Natasha, gesturing indignantly back at Bucky. 

“What, he didn’t have to dress up?” 

“Shut up, you know you love dressing like an old man,” Natasha said absently as she came around the counter, looking Bucky up and down before raising an eyebrow at him. “The text said to dress nice.” Bucky looked down at himself, then back up at the other two. 

“I didn’t- what’s going on here?” Natasha turned around, giving Steve a look that said clearly ‘your turn’ before heading back into the kitchen. 

“C’mon Buck,” Steve said with a grin, “grab a seat.” He spun back to the kitchen as Bucky came up behind him, hopping up onto the stool next to Steve. He spent several seconds shifting around, settling into his seat before beginning to tap his fingers against the counter. “Wine?” Steve asked. Bucky narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously, then nodded slowly when Steve gave him his best beatific smile. The two men sat, slowly sipping their wine, watching at Natasha stirred the pot on the stove. 

“Nat, do you-”

“Don’t bother,” Steve interrupted, “I already asked.” 

“YA pomnyu, prigotovleniye pishchi, Yasha. Derzhites' podal'she ot moyey kukhne,” Natasha said into the soup, and Bucky snorted. 

“So little trust, Natalia,” Bucky answered with a teasing grin, becoming less visibly tense as the two bantered back and forth, Steve watching with a smile. 

By the time they had finished the meal (which was something Russian that Nat refused to tell Steve the name or ingredients of), they were all lose and grinning from the wine. Moving over to the living room, the three collapsed on the couch, cuddling into each other as they told stories of each other’s incompetencies from their various missions. 

“...and then he fucking tripped, and dropped the fucking knife down a sewer grate.” Steve was laughing so hard he could barely breath while Natasha gestured emphatically and Bucky glared at her half-heartedly. 

“It was fucking freezing, I couldn’t feel my fingers or feet anymore!!” he replied indignantly, waving a hand around.

“Like that’s an excuse,” Nat scoffed, and they all collapsed into laughter. 

As the laughter died down, Nat and Bucky both found themselves leaning their heads on Steve’s shoulders, snuggling in close to his furnace-like body. Steve smiled down at the tops of their heads. As if he could feel Steve looking at him, Bucky tilted his head up, smiling softly at him, and Steve couldn’t help himself, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. What started as a quick peck however quickly deepened, and when the two eventually came up for air they found Nat sitting in front of them on the coffee table, smiling at them. Leaning forward, she kissed both of them in turn, before grabbing their hands and leading them back to the bedroom. 

\----------

Steve shifted, snuggling forward and rubbing his nose against the back of Bucky’s neck, grinning against his skin. His hand, thrown over Bucky’s side and resting against his abs was tangled up with Natasha’s. He felt Bucky’s shoulders shake with a silent laugh. 

“If you’re aiming for another round, I’m not sure I’m quite up for it,” Steve could hear the smile in Bucky’s voice. He was warm, and content, and with the two people he loved the most in the world, and could feel the happiness that had been missing from his life for so long welling up inside his chest. 

“I love you,” he whispered against Bucky’s shoulder, and froze when Bucky immediately tensed and sat up, beginning to make his way off the bed. Steve quickly followed. Oh god, what had he done, why would he _say_ that, why would he say that, _why_ would he say that… Reaching towards Bucky’s retreating back before dropping his hand, he glanced helplessly towards Natasha, who was glaring at him. 

“Goddamnit Rogers,” she growled, “I had a fucking plan!” 

“Um, I’m not…” both of them turned to Bucky when he spoke, finally having managed to scramble off the bed without looking at either of them, “I never wanted, I mean, I don’t want to- you have something special and…” 

“Bucky,” Natasha said, and again, more forcefully when he continued muttering half-sentences, “ _Bucky_.” He stopped, slowly turning to look at them, eyes guarded but still full of fear. She glanced at Steve before speaking slowly, carefully. 

“We don’t want to ask anything of you that you don’t want to give,” she said, pausing, then continuing when Bucky didn’t react, “but Steve and I, we both want to be with you.” Bucky’s eyes flicked to Steve, who nodded earnestly. 

“We do,” he added, then shut up quickly when Natasha kicked him in the shoulder without looking. 

“If you want to keep it physical, or stop it altogether, we understand,” Nat continued, voice calm and even, “but both of us would be interested in pursuing a relationship with you.” She stopped speaking, both her and Steve waiting with baited breath for Bucky’s reaction. He was looking down at the ground, not making eye contact with either of them, and there was silence in the room for a long moment. 

“I don’t…” he began, and Steve couldn’t help the small flinch that rippled through him, drawing Bucky’s eyes up Steve’s, before flicking over to Natasha’s. “I wasn’t expecting anything,” he continued, “anything like this… but, yeah.” Steve glanced at Nat, who rolled her eyes but nodded at him. 

“Yeah?” He asked, unable to keep the hope out of his voice as he looked back at Bucky. 

“Yeah,” Bucky replied, a grin stretching across his face, and Steve couldn’t help but whoop, jumping up and grabbing Bucky into a bone crushing hug. Spinning around, he grinned at Nat over Bucky’s shoulder, who shook her head at him for a second before grinning and jumping up to latch onto Bucky’s back. The three stood like that for a long moment before finally collapsing back onto the bed, cuddling up tighter than they had before, none of them able to stop smiling. 

“Hey,” Bucky finally spoke, “dibs on telling Stark.” 

Yeah, Steve thought, they were going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> YA pomnyu, prigotovleniye pishchi, Yasha . Derzhites' podal'she ot moyey kukhne. – I remember your cooking Yasha. Stay away from my kitchen.
> 
> Join me on [ tumblr ](http://stevesbootyshorts.tumblr.com/) to cry about these assholes.


End file.
